


None Shall Wrest Me from Your Arms

by TheElephant



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1691660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheElephant/pseuds/TheElephant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He walked out of the doors, and down a side-street. He had been walking absent clear thought of direction, when noise was heard from behind. Turning on heel, pace quickened, sword clutched in hand. Once corner was rounded a sight met Agron he had sworn he would never see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	None Shall Wrest Me from Your Arms

They had fallen to sleep after night of misunderstanding, and blessed activity. Castus had been warned off, and Nasir had reminded Agron, that he would never break trust with him. Agron’s arm lay across Nasir, their bodies pressed together as he and his brother had when they were children. His breath caught in chest. It had been months since he had thought about beloved brother, Duro, and thought caused chest to tighten. Image of loving, laughter-filled face accompanied Agron’s fall to slumber. 

Night was broken by tearing nightmares, and shrieking memory. He awoke upon floor, shaking as leaf in wind. He left their chamber, not wishing to disturb Nasir, in pursuit of air to clear head.

Agron walked through villa, in the city they had come to call home. All Romans shits who owned it were either dead, or chained up along streets like cattle. He walked out of the doors, and down a side-street. He had been walking absent clear thought of direction, when noise was heard from behind. Turning on heel, pace quickened, sword clutched in hand. Once corner was rounded a sight met Agron he had sworn he would never see. 

Nasir lay upon ground, backed up against wall, trembling and terrified. All signs of attackers vanished. His face was bloody, raven hair plastered to cheeks, fallen out of usual braids. Arm clutching his bruised ribs. Agron dropped sword and rushed to him, tears falling hot upon cheeks at sight. He placed hands either side of his beloved’s face, careful of wounds, and looked deep into his eyes. Nasir looked back, although fearful before, now comforted having lover so near by. Fierce eyes looked back at Nasir, ones lit by flames of vengeance.

“Give name to attackers, and see their actions avenged.” Agron growled, but still with loving hands upon face. Nasir only looked back, attempt at speech left him clutching ribs, and Agron understood.

He picked up and sheathed sword, and lifted his Syrian as gently as he could in his arms and moved back toward safety of Spartacus’ villa. Nasir groaned with almost each step, as careful as Agron was with precious load. 

He went to Spartacus’ chamber first, calling to the one he named brother. Their leader emerged, the kiss of sleep still upon eyelids, but when sight of Nasir was met, change was swift. He helped Agron take Nasir to their bed, and called for Naevia - one close to the Syrian - and one trained in healing. 

He laid Nasir upon their bed, and knelt beside him, using cloth and water supplied by Spartacus to clean wounded body. Agron smoothed back, the beautiful black silk and started to clean wounds on Nasir’s face. Trying to hide concern, as he had done when Nasir earned his ‘brand’ when liberating Naevia from the mines, Agron smiled when eyes were met. Nasir, despite current condition, could tell and tried to speak.

“Ag–”

“Shush. Do not attempt words. It causes pain, to us both.” These words came faster than Agron wanted, as eyes were welling up with unshed tears. Nasir’s own eyes were clouded and bruised, not as fire-braziers as they were but a few hours ago. Nasir raised a hand to cup cheek, grazing thumb against the bone. Agron raised his own to cover it, much needed comfort found in gesture of lover, confirming that he lived, and was yet to live. 

“Do not worry.” He smiled, stretching his cracked lips. “You are by my side. I have no pain when you are with me.” Agron let more tears fall, gripping tightly onto the hand that held his face. 

“Where is he?” Naevia could be heard running through villa, anxious to find close friend, who had endangered life to save her own. She came upon them, Agron - who would have stood and dried his tears for fear of Crixus’ teasing (as wherever Naevia went, her man was always hot upon heel) - remained by his lover’s side. 

Naevia went to the other side of the bed, grabbing Nasir’s other hand. She looked from Nasir, who had closed his eyes - never wanting to be at the centre of the circle of attention, except Agron’s - to Agron.

“Who did this? Why?”

Agron looked back at her and shook his head, “He had not strength to tell me.”

Naevia nodded, understanding dawning in her face. She looked to Nasir, “When strength is recovered, reveal them, and see that we take care of them.” Naevia’s voice was as it was when battle was near. Agron did not wish Nasir to be pushed, so he made effort to remove Naevia from room. 

Upon her leaving, the girl named Sibyl entered with fresh water and cloths. The Medicus had been found collapsed in the street, sweet taste of wine upon lips, and she had been the only rebel not tempted by offering from Cilicians. She came to the bedside, and gently took cloth from Agron’s near-trembling hand, smile upon face. 

As she cleaned and dressed wounds, Agron paced up and down length of room, mind churning with those who would have harmed his lover. 

When Sibyl had finished, she rose, placed used cloths in the bowl, and turned to leave.

“Gratitude.” Agron’s voice was thick with emotion. She turned, and smiled sweetly at him, before leaving the two alone. 

Agron came to the bedside, and grasped at hand that was resting upon stomach. Nasir’s eyes fluttered open, as if awaking from a deep sleep, and looked up at his German. 

“I cannot lose you. I could not live without you. You are blood in my veins.” Nasir looked into his eyes, unsurprised at the words that had fallen from beautiful lips.

“You will not. None shall wrest me from your arms.”

Agron leaned head upon Nasir’s chest, careful of injured ribs. Nasir placed a hand on the back of his head, stroking a small patch behind his ear with one finger, a touch Agron had always favoured. Nasir leant his head down to kiss top of lover’s head. Agron reached up a hand to caress lover’s face, and lay there listening to steady heartbeat of the one who holds his heart.


End file.
